home sweet home
by mornings'glory
Summary: "'I'll see you soon.' That's the last thing he says before the door closes behind him." / Seddie, post-series, warning: sexual context.


_I just miss my Seddie, kay? Kay._

* * *

She touches his face lightly, with the top of her nail, scared that the slightest move might wake him up.

His solid arms are wrapped around her now so small, _porcelain_ even body.

Their naked bodies are loosely tangled up so she can stare at him, as long as she wants.

She knows, when he wakes up, it will all go away. Not now, but they will realize this was all a big mistake,_ again, _he shouldn't have come, _again_ and he's going to leave now, as he always does.

She wonders what reason he has for coming back.

_(maybe she knows, maybe she doesn't want to tell.)_

She gets up from under the covers lazily, shivering from the cold, because it's December after all, and grabs some clothing before she freezes.

Then, she pushes back the heavy with curtains that covers her window and admire the view of the Brooklyn, enjoying the sunshine that enters the room.

/

It's been three years; three years since Carly left to Italy, three years since her and Cat started the whole _babysitting_ thing.

For the next step in their business, girls came to New York and moved in two different apartments not so far from each other. They saved enough money to afford for their two own spaces and that's what Sam has been proud of the most.

She stands by the express, making morning coffee, wearing one of those old, stretched out sweatshirts of his.

_(is he leaving them by each visit on purpose, she doesn't know.)_

He walks into the kitchen, wrapping his arms from behind her and she leans against him, sighing.

That leads to morning, lazy sex on the couch, they both love so much.

No clothes are gone, it's just her panties and his sweatpants that went down just above knees and he moans as her nails digs into his back.

_There are gonna be scars._

_(like it's a first one?)_

"Freddie," she pants, when he continues thrusting into her and he just tilts his head back in response, as they both reach it, and her screams are all he hears right now.

/

"When are you leaving?" she asks the same evening, as they lay stretched out on _the couch_, he – reading a book, and she – hopping from channel to channel.

"I don't know, Sam." He looks into her eyes from above the book and leans to kiss her.

That's when she knows – he will be staying for more than a day or two.

Evenings like that are her favorite. She feels like she could have spent the rest of her life like this, _if only _he would be a stable thing in her life.

But he is, isn't he?

They just both never know when he will be coming back again.

/

They're not a couple – they date other people.

(_ignoring the feeling that they're cheating, over and over)_

They're not a couple, so she can do nothing but stares at him in shock after an 'I love you' escapes his mouth.

It's one _of the times_ when they're saying goodbye at the front door of her tiny, cheap apartment in Brooklyn, but it _feels_ like home, even though it's not Seattle, _hell_, it's not even Los Angeles, but it feels like home.

She glares at him and he smiles with a smile of a man who lived for thousands of years.

Freddie wipes away a tear that she has not realizes has fallen and he heads off towards the elevator with an old, worn out duffel bag, hanging over his back.

"I'll see you soon." That's the last thing he says before the door closes behind him.

"That snarky, little _bastard._"

/

One month and two weeks later, it's about two at the morning when she hears a key, turning in the lock and she immediately knows it's _him_ because he's the only one that has got a copy of the key.

He stands in the door frame, snow flickering in his wet hair.

He wished he had a chance to see her like that every day. No make-up, hair in a ponytail, like a man who came back from work and the first thing he sees back home is his girlfriend, working until late hours, filling her calendar.

She smiles sadly at him and walks closer, pulling him into a tight hug.

He wraps his arms around her protectively and buries his face into her neck.

That – _that _felt like home.

/

"I missed you so much." She whispers shakily against his mouth as her legs are wrapped tightly around his waist and hot, fresh water pours around their bodies, skin and minds.

She pulls away from his lips and kisses his jawline lightly, then neck, then collarbone.

He enters her, slowly, _in and out_, each time deeper, _in and out, _each time with more power, _in and out_, until she cries out, her back arches, and he places light kisses on her breasts.

"I missed you, too." He mumbles against her skin.

/

He leans against the wall, staring at her moves, the way she fills the envelope with money to pay the bills.

As if she felt he was watching her, she raises her gaze and her eyes focus on him.

"What?" She asks.

"It's home." He declares softly.

"Oh really? Then maybe you should find a job here, not jumping from city to city, promoting the new PearStore things." She says casually.

He says nothing, because, really, he doesn't know if he wants another job. He earns good money and he likes travelling around the country.

(_lieslieslies, maybe he doesn't know if he wants to settledown)_

"I don't know."

She looks at him heavily, her eyes filled with tears.

"Is that so?" She licks the back of the envelope to glue it. "Would you tell me, then, when can I stop being the one who waits for your _comebacks_ every once in a while? You always pop out of nowhere and when you leave, I always question myself if you're ever coming back! And now, _now_, while you're paying another _visit_, you say that it feels like home?"

"Sam…" he starts.

"No, don't you do that! Listen to me! Why, I mean, _why _is it so complicated? Can't we just be like any other, normal couple? Fighting over nothing, but _together_?"

"I think you've noticed we aren't exactly normal, years ago." He spoke.

She breathes in, nodding.

They don't talk much later that night when he wraps the covers around them, his lips all over her body, her teeth _melting_ in his back as he holds onto her, tightly.

/

He kisses her goodbye, with a long, warm, passionate kiss that any other girl would have dreamed of, but right now, to her, it just feels too little, _too late_.

She wants him to stay, to live here, to finally admit that this is where he belongs, not just leaving his clothes _and books and movies and mugs_.

"Freddie, stay." She pleads as he heads off towards the elevator, _once again_.

He turns around.

"I can't, Sam." He says softly, reaching to touch her cheek. She leans into the touch, wanting nothing more as to stay like this forever.

"I love you." She whispers.

He presses his lips against hers, _once again_ but before she can overjoy herself, he pulls away and shakes his head.

"I'll see you soon, Sam."

"Goodbye, Freddie." She says and before she could see the sadness and guilt in his eyes, she shuts the door behind her and slides down the wall, covering her face with her palms.

/

She hears knocking on her door and gets up from the couch, pulling the sweatshirt down to cover her thighs.

Sam opens the door and there he is, standing right in front of her, with the old, worn out duffel bag.

She shakes her head and tries to close the door, but he steps in before she can do it.

"I'm staying." He announces.

She raises her eyebrow and crosses her arms.

"For how long?"

"Forever, I guess." He smiles at her and she believes him.

So she wraps her arms around his neck and presses her lips to his gently, muttering 'okay'.

She can feel him grinning against her and that's when she knows – _that's home._

* * *

_Reviews are lovely._


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